And there was only one way to move faster. I needed to drop the binding words. Which meant I needed to overlay all my controls over a single word. I had never even practiced it before, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. But I had to try. And I couldn’t make it an unlimited composition either. Because with the amount of power shared between these two, I’d burn myself out all too quickly if I did.
Both of them raised their swords. I was out of time.
At least I wouldn’t have to worry about needing time to visualize the words. Not with only one.
I raised my own sword.
Thornton called for us to begin.
Lucas lunged toward me as a scrap of parchment appeared in Dariela’s hand. Just as I had predicted.
I ignored the incoming sword and put every ounce of my concentration into my composition.
“Shield!” I screamed, my power rippling to life around me a bare half-second before Lucas’s sword plunged toward my heart. It bounced off the shield just as a huge jolt hit me from behind.
The entire ground shook, and I staggered inside my bubble. I had limited the shield to protect me only from debilitating blows, thus why I still shook from the after effects of whatever that composition had unleashed.
But even with the limitations, the shield had already drawn a frightening amount of power. I could only hope Dariela had started with her strongest composition.
The two of them circled me slowly, shock in their eyes that I was still standing after their two-pronged attack. But I could see the calculation behind their emotion. Exchanging a glance, they each pulled out a parchment.
They must have heard my single word. Did they think I had erected an unlimited shield? Perhaps they thought to drain me. I held myself ready on the balls of my feet, my sword held loosely, and my eyes on their hands.
The second they ripped the paper, I let the sword drop and launched myself forward onto the ground, rolling into a tiny ball. The smaller I made myself, the less of a target I became—and the more my shield could safely let through.
Something huge and hard hit the shield and bounced off, draining more of my power as it went. But several smaller weights passed through, one glancing off my shoulder, sending a sharp pain searing through me.
I grunted but held my position for a moment longer before cautiously raising my head. Both of my opponents were staring at me, once again thrown off.
But these two weren’t the pride of the mageborn for nothing. They paused for only a second. Then, exchanging a glance, they both raised their swords and advanced on me. I leaped to my feet, scrambling to place my hand on my own sword.
I felt dangerously weak already and couldn’t afford to leave it to my shield to deflect all their blows. It wouldn’t anyway, I realized with a jolt. Only the debilitating ones, like the lunge at my chest that Lucas had tried earlier.
I pulled my sword up in time to parry an attack from Dariela. Lucas attempted another lunge while I was distracted, but my shield again deflected him. I wheeled, taking several steps back to keep them both in sight.
I could see Lucas’s narrowed eyes passing between his own sword and Dariela’s as he worked out why hers had passed through and his hadn’t. He was smart. Too smart. He would work it out quickly enough. And then he could wear me down with a hundred tiny cuts.
I went on the offensive myself, trying to distract him as I desperately tried to come up with a composition that would incapacitate them both. He blocked my attack, countering with a lunge. I whipped my sword up to meet his, feeling my shield deflect a blow from Dariela that I hadn’t even seen coming. I fell back again, and we all circled each other warily.
Their compositions weren’t draining them which gave them an undoubted extra advantage in the sword play. Both of them could keep this up a lot longer than I could, which meant I had to end this. And end it soon.
I needed something I had used before, something I knew worked. I whirled suddenly and directed my next lunge toward Dariela, whispering the binding words as I did so. This time they wouldn’t hear what was coming for them.
“Bind Lucas and Dariela in stillness until they yield. End binding.”
I gave an unstable lunge toward Dariela as I said the final words, distracting her with its wild aim as much as the attack itself. She stepped back, countering me neatly, but in doing so she had failed to notice my composition.
The stream of my power hit her hard, and she fell, arms and legs stiffly held in the positions they had occupied when my composition hit her. I could do no more than hope Lucas had gone down as well as I leaped forward and pressed my sword tip against Dariela’s throat.
“Yield,” she said quietly, and I didn’t pause to hear anything more.
Whirling, I looked for Lucas. He was charging toward me, a shimmer of his own power around him. Without my attack to distract him, he had managed to unleash his own shield in time to protect himself.
The drain of power holding Dariela bound had dissipated when she yielded, but my own shield remained active, deflecting another lunge from Lucas as I stumbled backward away from Dariela’s still prone body.
I kept moving backward as Lucas prowled toward me. He still had one composition he hadn’t used, and he now had both a shield and energy to wield his sword. I, on the other hand, had already used a significant proportion of my reserves.
If I had any hope of defeating him, I needed to break through his shield. Which meant I needed to put every drop of remaining power into my final composition. And to do that I had to lose my own shield.
I continued to back away as fast as I could go, murmuring quietly to myself. I let myself take the time to build the composition properly, attaching its release to an action rather than the end of the binding.
Lucas continued to pursue me, although he came more slowly than I would have done in his place, seeming to think he had the upper hand. Even so, he managed to close the gap just as I said, “End binding.”
When he attacked, my shield deflected it. I took a moment to prepare myself for my final desperate move, and he attacked again. As his sword glanced up and away, deflected by the curve of my shield, I whipped my arm back and threw.
I didn’t worry about aim, leaving my now released composition to guide the sword forward as it flew through the air. At the moment my hand left the sword, my shield dropped, every bit of my strength pouring into the force of my projectile.
It hit Lucas’s shield and pressed against it, hovering in mid-air, before an audible pop sounded, and his power dissipated, having reached whatever limit he had set. My sword flew forward, still guided by my power, as it followed Lucas’s movement.
He had recovered from his final failed attack more quickly than I had anticipated, and already he had launched another. And now I had neither shield nor sword to protect me.
At the last second, I threw myself to the side, and his sword slid deep into my shoulder, scraping along bone.
I screamed and felt my power waver. But I gritted my teeth and threw everything I had into holding on. For just one more minute.
My sword hovered in the air as I had directed it, its tip now pressed against Lucas’s throat. He had frozen still lunged forward—his own sword still lodged in my shoulder—his eyes wide as my sharp tip nicked his skin.
Our eyes met, and I managed to grind out a single word.
“Well?”
His eyes flashed to my shoulder, and he swallowed. The tiny movement made my sword nick him again.
“Yield,” he said, a fresh droplet of blood blooming against his neck.
As he spoke the word, my sword dropped away, my composition released. The drain on my power abruptly cut off, and the pain of my shoulder rushed forward to take its place, swamping me.
I swayed and fell.
Chapter 24
As I dropped, Lucas ripped his sword free of my shoulder, letting it fall beside him. Taking a single step forward, he caught me before I hit the ground.
I looked up into his white face, th
e smears of red stark against the skin of his neck.
“I thought your shield would—” He didn’t finish his sentence.
I shook my head, unable to take in his words. Everything spun around me as blood poured down my shoulder. I needed to stop the bleeding now.
The bout was over, I could use a fourth composition. I opened my mouth to begin the binding words, but Lucas clapped one of his hands across it. Somehow he knew my intentions.
“No,” he said. “Let Acacia do it.”
Acacia? I looked around feebly and spotted a blur of purple racing toward us. Oh, good.
I let myself relax a little, already anticipating her cool mist against my burning skin. If she said anything, I didn’t hear it, but my anxious ears heard the clear sound of ripping parchment.
I gasped and then sighed as her power settled over me, and the pain subsided. I felt the rush of blood slow to a trickle and then stop as the wound healed. I took a deep breath, shook my head, and then struggled out of Lucas’s supporting arms.
For a moment he tried to hold on but then seemed to think better of it, abruptly releasing me. I swayed slightly as I took my weight on my own feet, but then I blinked several times, and my head cleared.
“A nice clean wound, at least,” said Acacia with a look of sympathy.
“Were you truly going to attempt to heal it yourself?” Lucas asked me in a low voice.
I gave him a confused look. “Of course.”
“But you must be close to burn out. Surely.”
“I could have stopped the bleeding at least. I think. But better to try than bleed to death.”
He shook his head. “This wasn’t a real battle, Elena. We wouldn’t have let you bleed to death.”
I stared at him for a moment as a creeping feeling of foolishness washed over me. He was right, of course. I had let myself get swept up in the stakes of the exam. And then in the pain and exhaustion I had forgotten that with the bout over someone else would heal me.
I flushed and then shrugged, too tired to work out if I should thank him for stopping me. Given he had been the one to injure me in the first place. Except that had been during the bout. I shook my head and started back toward the stands.
In the heat of battle, I had forgotten our audience. To a person they stared at me in total silence. I swallowed and tried to keep from swaying as I walked. When I placed my foot on the first step, the silence broke.
“Incredible,” said General Griffith, his eyes on me, but his words seemingly directed at Lorcan beside him. “You told me…But I didn’t think.” He shook his head. “Incredible.” A greedy light lit his eyes, and I shivered.
Whatever it had cost me, that victory had been worth it to keep myself out of his grip. But when my eyes skipped over Lorcan and landed on Thornton, I nearly stumbled. I couldn’t mistake his expression this time. It was awe. He clearly hadn’t expected me to win.
I turned away from all of them, but my eyes only landed on the trainees filling the front row of seats on the other side of the stairs. And Calix was looking at me with just as much wonder in his face as Thornton.
First my instructor, and now one of my enemies. I didn’t look at anyone else, hurrying up the stairs and taking the first seat I could find on a higher level.
Only when my heartbeat had slowed and calmed did I look around. I had expected my friends to rush over to me as soon as I sat, but none of them had moved. Every one of them—even Coralie—was looking at me with something in their eyes that I didn’t want to see there. I looked away.
If there were more bouts after mine, I didn’t absorb them. I did hear Thornton announce that everyone had passed and managed a moment of relief for Araminta. And when everyone rose to clear the arena for the third years, I stumbled to my feet to follow them.
The general and his entourage remained, talking quietly with Thornton, and I averted my eyes, walking quickly past. But Lorcan called out to me, so I reluctantly stopped.
Coralie cast me a hesitant look, but I gave her a slight shrug, and she kept walking.
“The other trainees will complete their composition exams after the midday meal,” he said, and I stared at him in dismay.
The composition exam. How had I forgotten it? And how would I ever complete it now? After everything I had just done, I was going to fail second year after all.
But he kept speaking. “Every few years the suggestion is made that the composition exam is unnecessary for the second years and above since they demonstrate compositions in their combat exam. But those compositions used in combat were prepared previously, and not necessarily under instructor supervision. We still need to observe them as they compose. That is not so in your case.”
He gestured to where Griffith and Thornton were still talking. “Two instructors and two members of the Mage Council just witnessed you compose three separate workings. You may consider yourself to have passed second year entirely.” He dropped his voice. “Well done, Elena.”
I managed to smile, relief washing over me. So I had done it. And now I would get to sleep. My bed had never been more welcome. I nodded at him and continued on my way toward the exit, not wanting to get caught in any sort of interaction with the general.
As I left the arena, the third years filed in, looking at me curiously as they passed. Apparently the general had decided to stay and observe the efforts of the upper year levels as well.
The last of them passed me just as I stepped out into the open air. I remembered that unlike after a normal class, it would still be some time before the meal. The third and fourth years needed to bout first.
I immediately resolved that food could wait. My pillow called to me.
But a low voice murmuring my name stopped me in my tracks. I turned slowly to find Lucas waiting for me in the shadow of the arena wall.
My feet took me over to him of their own accord, drawn perhaps by his pale color and the note of desperation in his voice.
He gripped my shoulders and examined every inch of my face.
“You’re all right? You’re truly all right?”
I nodded. I had never seen him so shaken, and it temporarily drove away my exhaustion, sharpening my mind.
“Oh, thank goodness.” He pressed his lips together and swallowed. “When I felt my sword slide into your shoulder…”
His hands tightened convulsively, and he looked almost as if he was going to be sick.
“I thought your shield would block it. I only meant to tire you further. And then your sword meant I couldn’t even draw back. The feel of my blade, held there…” He shook his head. “I let myself get caught up in the bout, but I would never knowingly…”
“Lucas. It’s all right. I’m fine. Truly.” I managed a smile. “I even won.”
A slow blaze lit his eyes. “Yes, you did. I didn’t think it was possible. I wanted to refuse when Thornton announced the bout, but it was an exam. That would have done neither of us any good. But I was so angry. Surprising you with something like this. And against Dariela and me. If I could have softened my compositions—but it was too late for that. And then the bout started, and I forgot for a moment…”
“You mean you didn’t cheat in an exam and let me win?” I shook my head. “I would never expect such a thing. Truly it’s all right, Lucas.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not. Some things are more important than winning. Even when you’re a prince.”
“Are they? Are you sure?” I tried to inject a lighter note into the conversation, but his eyes remained serious.
“Yes. Some things—or rather some people—are more important. You’re more important, Elena. More important to me.”
My head spun, but not with exhaustion this time. I could not be hearing these words from Lucas of all people. From Lucas who had always put his interest in the kingdom above me. Perhaps it was all some fever dream, a wish conjured up by my tired brain. Perhaps even now I was lying unconscious in Acacia’s rooms, recovering from burn out, and everything since the end
of the bout had been a dream.
But his arms gripping my shoulders felt real and steady. And his eyes burning into mine lit an answering fire inside me.
But I had been here before. I tried to find the strength to draw back.
“You kissed me at the end of first year exams,” I told him, “only to go straight back to ignoring me. And then you used my feelings to try to stop me from saving my sister. How can you say now that I’m more important to you than anything?”
“Used your feelings?” To my astonishment it was hope that sprang into his eyes. “For nearly two years I’ve been tormenting myself wondering if you had any feelings at all for me beside resentment and anger.”
He shook his head. “At least whenever I wasn’t reminding myself that as a prince I shouldn’t have feelings for you myself. At least not outside of interest in the Spoken Mage and the asset you could be to Ardann. And yet everywhere I turned there you were. Braver, more caring, more resilient, more full of fire than I could possibly have hoped. Nothing has beaten you down. No matter what you face, you rise from it, stronger than ever.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “More beautiful than ever. So tell me, Elena. Do you have feelings for me?”
“I…I can’t,” I whispered back.
“Can’t have feelings for me or can’t tell me?”
I swallowed as I tried to gather my whirling thoughts.
“You tracked me,” I said at last. “You kept secrets from me, you ignored me, you watched the other trainees beat and harass me. I suppose…I suppose I can’t trust you.”
But even as I said it, my heart screamed at me to give a different answer. Because there was another side to this prince. He had protected me, spoken up for me, sought me out, trained me, challenged me. Again and again. In Abalene he had even listened to me and taken action, risking his family’s ridicule.
An anguished look crossed his face. “I’ve made so many mistakes where you’re concerned, Elena. If I had only been open with you from the beginning. If I had only trusted my heart.” He stared into my eyes, begging me to hear him. “But as a prince I was never taught to listen to my heart, only my head. And it seems with you, my head has too often steered me wrong. But my heart…” His voice dropped low. “My heart has remained steady, Elena.”
Voice of Command (The Spoken Mage Book 2) Page 22